


Of Caderas

by CyanideRadiance



Series: The Narco Diaries [3]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: But very implied, Clubbing, Dry Humping, F/M, Hand Jobs, No Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Smut, because like, don't have to read the others to read this, hips don't lie, just SHAMELESS SMUT, just... steam, narcos au, not very explicit, rayla shenanigans, sicario au, who wouldn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21613804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideRadiance/pseuds/CyanideRadiance
Summary: Caderas- Spanish. Noun. plural, feminine (singular: cadera f). Hips.In which Rayla takes Callum to a club, and she uses her hips to start some chaos.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: The Narco Diaries [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1382236
Kudos: 69





	Of Caderas

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Narcos Diaries series! You don't have to read it before you read this (also, fair warning: it's a 27k long vignette style crack fic broken into 2 parts).  
> This isn't super explicit, but have fun anyways!
> 
> Also thanks iamawoken for beta-ing. Here is my repayment!

It was loud and tight.

Callum found himself regretting his list of bad decisions. Usually, he’d try to blame Rayla for his predicaments, but this was all on him. He’d confessed his ‘Beyond Comfort Zone List’ to her a few weeks ago, and she’d immediately gone through lengths to help him complete it.

Smoke hookah? Check.

Get drunk and play Twister? Check.

Enter an abandoned building? Check.

Go to a drag show? Check.

And they were currently tackling his latest wish: clubbing. She wasn’t apparently big into the night life, but, in her line of work, she sort of had to get involved. So she was more than knowledgeable about where to go for what.

Her voice echoed, just barely loud enough to hear over the bass. _If you want good and cheap drinks, we go here. If you want good music, we’ll go there. If you want a more…_ diverse _crowd, we’d go here instead. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen, Lover Boy._

He had half the mind to tell her _I want you_ , but he knew she’d just roll her eyes at him. This was, after all, a serious endeavor.

And now, here he was. Idly watching bodies move as he tried his best to avoid sweaty limbs and drunken stumbles. He had very quickly come to the conclusion that he wasn’t about to become an avid clubber. However, it was nice to see the way Rayla reacted to the music unconsciously. It was almost like she couldn’t help it. Whether it was swaying or tapping, she was constantly on the move.

At his stare, she gave him a wide smile and motioned to the dance floor, but he shook his head vigorously. He hadn’t gathered up enough enthusiasm to want to throw himself into the thick of the bodies. It just seemed so uncomfortable.

Then the distinct sound of trumpets blared at them, and her face lit up. “Please!” she cried over the music, offering a hand. “Dance with me, Callum.”

He began to shake his head again, but something about her eyes, the way her lips were slightly pouting. The bobbing of her head. He was weak, especially when she was dressed like that. “Fine,” he groaned, and she wasted no time dragging him through the crowd.

Shakira crooned above him, and he winced a bit. He hadn’t heard this song in _so long_. It was so old. He couldn’t even believe they’d played it.

_Hips Don’t Lie._

When had this song even come out?

Finally, Rayla stopped in an area slightly less crowded. He felt he had a bit more room to breathe and move and was eternally grateful for the dry fit long sleeve he’d picked out. She also had a long sleeve top, cut just so to expose her shoulders. He tried not to roll his eyes at himself, but that sliver of skin was messing with his head a bit. And he’d always wondered how she managed to pull off shorts and boots so well. Her high ponytail swayed, and her red lips smiled at him coyly. It wasn’t often either one of them put an extra effort in their looks, but the colors around her eyes only helped bring out the amethyst underneath the changing lights.

“You’re supposed to dance, Lover Boy. Not just stand there.” She put her hands on his hips and urged him to follow her swing to the beat. “There you go!” she said with an encouraging nod.

It was still a bit awkward, but they continued to dance. He even began to mouth some of the lyrics. As the chorus ended, he leaned forward. “Do _your_ hips lie?” he joked.

But something in her demeanor changed. She brightened and bit her lip, hooded eyes looking up at him. She turned to give him her back. The room got hotter, and his clothes suddenly seemed smaller than before. He mentally smacked himself, staring daggers at his pants. _Don’t you dare_ , he warned himself.

The music dipped into the saxophone part, and her hips began to jerk hypnotically. She pulled at his hands, placing them on her body. He was so caught up in the fluidity of her, he didn’t register what she wanted.

“Move with me,” she urged a bit breathlessly.

Mutely, he followed her general direction. She was doing this on purpose to bait him, but he wasn’t going to stop her now. Or anytime soon.

She turned around, and he was amazed by the way her torso remained relatively still. What would it look like if she just… He trailed his hands up her body, lightly touching as he urged her hands up and above her head. He was enraptured anew by the way the muscles in her back flexed. There was so much power in her body. She turned her head back, glancing at him sideways. She inched towards him, but he failed to notice until her body was flush against his.

He froze immediately, hands stiff cuffs against the dip between her shoulder and back. She laughed, snapping her hips upwards in an obvious taunt against him. “Just go with it,” she said, leaning against his chest. Her lips brushed against his ears as she spoke. But he remained a near statue. She shook her head and began to kiss the column of his neck, nuzzling her nose into his sweaty skin.

But his brain had near shut down. He sharply inhaled when she nipped, and her giggled exhale tickled his chin. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. She soothed the sting with an especially hot lick.

“Ray, I don’t think—”

“That’s right. Don’t think. Just feel the music.” The song had changed to another Spanish tune, but the beat thrummed through his veins.

 _Was that Bad Bunny?_ Callum wondered distantly.

“Nobody is watching us. They’re too involved in themselves. It’s okay to touch me.” Her hips jerked back and forth against him, coaxing him to her rhythm. The devious look on her face said she had an alternate reason for her movements, but he couldn’t help the way his body moved after her.

 _Stop. It,_ he hissed at himself, but he was too far gone. His fingers dug into the skin just above the waistband of her shorts. She placed her hands over his, guiding them across her body idly. He was still hesitant, not wanting to excite himself further.

“C’mon,” she crooned against his earlobe. “This was on your list, wasn’t it?”

He swallowed thickly. “Going to a club was the only thing on my list.” _Not grinding like… like… Heathens!_

“You can’t go to a club and just stand there. Just… Stop thinking so much,” she said, backing into him with more force than before.

“That’s the problem,” he grumbled. “I can’t think at all.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the music.”

But he shook his head, finally giving in to her. His palms ran along her sides, slightly guiding the twist but more just following her. They moved against one another for some time, and he was worried the discomfort within his pants wouldn’t dissipate unless he took matters into his own hands.

He cringed, wrapping an arm around Rayla’s torso. His forearm rested against her sternum, palm against the side of her neck. Idly, he dragged his thumb against his lips, and she repeatedly kissed the pad of his finger. His other arm wrapped around her hips, fingers digging into the skin of her thigh just under her shorts.

Someone bumped into them, and his index dipped a little too close to her center for a public place.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Ray—”

But she spun around in his arms, one of her hands creeping down as her other pulled him to her for a rough kiss. He gasped into her mouth at the feel of her fingers, and he shook his head. “We’re in _public_ ,” he hissed against her mouth.

“Yeah,” she breathed, wrapping one of her legs around his. His pelvis fell perfectly into the new space that opened up between her legs. “We are.”

Her fingers were little shots of electricity against his skin, her tongue like a hit of cocaine against his own. He was drunk on her. Her scent. Her sweat and her heat.

He pulled back, even as she continued to rub herself against him, almost desperately. It never ceased to amaze him how well she still kept in time to the music, even as she herself was becoming lost in her feelings, judging by the glassy look she was giving him.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to look like I just peed myself in the middle of this club. _Please,_ Rayla,” he begged as her hand slipped beneath his waistband. “Ray! _Oh, shit._ Please.” And his repeated word took on a whole new meaning. She was _touching_ him. And it needed to stop, but he could wait a few more seconds… Minutes… He was painfully close. Just a bit… More.

_Right there._

He threw his head back, grunting lost to the music. She continued to rub against him, dragging her lips up to his own to make her claim again.

“Agh,” she hissed into his ear, and her body spasmed against him in a telltale sign of her own sort of wicked release.

“That… That was…” he heaved heavily, searching for the right words. “Illegal,” he finally settled on.

Her smile was sinful. “We do illegal things all the time,” she reminded him.

“But… But not like that. Jeez.” He couldn’t collect himself. “It makes me want to—” He swallowed thickly. “To finish the job.”

“Okay, yeah. We’re going home. Like now.” She put his hands on her shoulders as she made her way through the crowd. She guided him and protected his front from view of prying eyes like a Guardian. He shifted uncomfortably, but there was no way around it.

“What are we going to do at home?” he asked against the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“We’re going to… To make waffles,” she said, winking at him.

He nodded, recognizing the euphemism as a hungry darkness began to crawl through his veins. “Waffles? I like waffles.”


End file.
